


Everything You Deserve

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fix-It, M/M, Mates, Revenge, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 10:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: You think about it. More than you should, you think about it. About what would have happened, if you had bitten Stiles instead of Scott.





	Everything You Deserve

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so. First attempt at this ship and I kinda like it. So. Enjoy?

You think about it. More than you should, you think about it. About what would have happened, if you had bitten Stiles instead of Scott. 

That's where everything went wrong. Biting a petulant boy more obsessed with his dick and where to stick it than the gift he had been given. 

And Scott lost you Derek, so obsessed with doing what was right, so consumed with  _ teaching  _ Scott. 

If it had been Stiles though. Stiles with his big brilliant mind and boundless loyalty, his quick wit and sharp tongue--if it had been Stiles, everything would have changed. 

You feel it, the promise of strength and loyalty, the curious nudge of  _ more _ , in the pulse you held to your teeth. And you want it, want to take Stiles and claim him, make him  _ yours.  _

You don't though. 

You let Stiles go, feeling the pounding of want in your boy's pulse and you step away. 

~*~

The writing on the wall was there and you laid your card on the table, setting the pieces in motion for Lydia to bring you back. 

It took very little for you to change the spell, to bring you back  _ earlier.  _ Very little to bring you back in the bright heat of summer and when you found Laura, it was quick and easy and painless. 

She deserves that much. 

And then you went hunting for the beta you should have always had. 

~*~ 

It's easier, this time. Stiles is at your side, filled with fury at you and for you, and he fights like a demon when you train him, dirty and quick and laughing. 

It makes you wonder what he will fuck like.

You think Stiles knows--he watches you sometimes, eyes bright and cunning, but he doesn't push and you don't take. 

He hates Jennifer with an intensity that startles you and fights with Derek like a sibling and for the first time in six years, you can breath with the feeling of  _ pack _ around you. 

~*~ 

The first time you kiss him, you're in his childhood bedroom. Stiles is vibrating with tension, his long elegant fingers sweeping through a plan that is simple and elegant and perfect. 

And dangerous. Stiles walking like so much bait in the sight of the Argents made every instinct in you seize and scream, but there was a hum of approval from your wolf and Stiles hands and heart are steady. 

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, finally, bewildered and Stiles huffs, an angry put upon noise. 

“Dude, they killed your  _ kid.” _

You kiss him quick and hard and deep, licking into your boy's hot wet mouth and swallowing his hungry groan, not letting yourself think beyond that angry indignation, fury on your behalf that  you haven't had in longer than you can remember. 

You kiss him because Stiles is brilliant and wonderful, everything you expected and more. 

You kiss him because your wolf is screaming for it, because Stiles hates your nurse and fights Derek for your attention and cuddles close to you after training, limp and content. 

You kiss Stiles because you  _ want _ . Because not kissing him is impossible. 

~*~ 

Stiles kills Jennifer the night Kate Argent drives into town and leaves her corpse, clawed open and marked with a spiral, on the hunters pretty black SUV. 

When he saunters into the remains of the Hale house, smelling of the Martin girl, Jennifer's blood on his hands and shoes,  you know you'll never be done with Stiles. 

You want to claim him, fuck him, make him submit, fight until you are both exhausted and Stiles curls sleepy against you. 

You can feel Derek's eyes on you, knowing and wary, and you shove all of that want aside and says mildly, “Wash your shoes before you return home.” 

~*~ 

When they are dead--Kate and her father, Chris and Victoria, but not the child, not Allison because Stiles had caught your hand, heavy with claws and dripping blood, and said,  _ it won’t bring them back. She’s innocent.-- _ when they are dead, you hide. 

You hate yourself for it, but you hide, a hurt animal licking it’s wounds. You knew killing the Argents wouldn’t bring them back, wouldn’t give you everything they’d taken, but you didn’t expect to feel this achingly empty, this  _ lost. _

Derek is staying. It hasn’t been said, yet, but it’s there, in the way he watches Jackson and spends too much time with Stiles and Scott, the way he sleeps in the Stilinski guest bedroom and comes to you smelling of them. 

You have spent so long wanting revenge, you don’t know what you want, now. 

~*~ 

Stiles finds you the third day, creeps into your apartment and into your bed while you sleep and he wakes you with a kiss, presses naked and trembling against you. 

“Don’t,” he whispers, and it’s a plea and a warning, as he shifts, straddling you. 

You snarl, claws pricking at his hips and he smiles. 

It’s everything you thought it would be, and more. 

Stiles has always been everything and more. 

He’s fierce and clever, his hands snaking between you when you kiss him, grasping and stroking until you are whining in your throat, and he is laughing. 

He’s wanton and wily, shaking and writhing under you while you roll your hips and thrust against the hollow of his hip and suck bruises into his pale skin. 

He’s laughing and cocky as he takes you down his throat, eyes flashing electric blue at you as you fist his hair and fuck up into his pretty mouth. 

He’s hungry and desperate, when you spread him out and lick him open, mewling into the pillow and coming from that, just from that, and you want to roll in it, the sweet salty scent of him. You nearly come when you smear your fingers through his spunk and press it to his lips and he groans as he takes them, bobbing and eager and hardening again. 

He’s taunting and demanding when you finger him open, endless demands of  _ more  _ and  _ Dammit, Peter,  _ and  _ is that all you got, alpha? _ that melt into  _ oh, fuck _ and  _ Peter, please _ and _ please, alpha, please fuck me. _

But when you do. When you press him into your bed and he stares up at you with shining eyes and a wild clean scent, and you press into him, bottoming out with one slow smooth glide, he isn’t anything but soft and trusting and  _ yours. _

~*~

Stiles is cuddly, and you huff as he turns into you, after you’ve licked him clean. You let him wrap around you, all clinging long limbs and sleepy warmth, and he presses a kiss into your skin before he mumbles sleepily, “Are we leaving?” 

And it settles something in you. 

Stiles always startles you, even when you think you have him figured out. You don’t ever want to walk away from that. 

Away from him. 

“No,” you say, and your eyes gleam red in the dark room. “It’s past time the Hale pack returned to Beacon Hills.”

He gives you a pleased little smile and falls asleep there, untroubled and comfortable against you, your boy with blood on his hands and blue in his eyes and every perfect thing you deserve. 

~*~ 

You sleep with Stiles in your arms and it feels like home. 


End file.
